


The final cut

by Anirion



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, OOC Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anirion/pseuds/Anirion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is judged for what he hadn't done and sentenced to downfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The final cut

\- Hate you! – darker than the deepest abyss eyes sparkle. 

Beautiful lips curve in a scornful grin. Not custody, nor shameful bonds can break the proud posture.

The Square of Justice is strangely full. It is not used that often in accordance with its function, as there is no necessity usually – not in the land of white winged creatures.

Dressed in white John stands, hovering over the prisoner. A sword forcefully in his grip. His job is to enforce a sentence. He does the right thing and never doubts his destination and deeds, though sorrow sometimes gnaws his soul for those who were parted from the heaven.

Loud voice suppress the noise over the square.

\- Sherlock Holmes!

The captive jerks his head, arrogantly raising his chin.

\- For your misdeeds you are sentenced to downfall.

John looks at the face of the convict and sees not a shadow of regret.

\- I command you to execute the sentence immediately! – Arbiter says the last word

With a ringing of strained chains the condemned is forced to kneel.  
He is looking before him fearlessly. The image of John is hidden by the sparkling light. The Keepers are proud of their duties but after several incidents of revenge, the Council has given them golden glow that allow others to see only their silhouette.

Without a hesitation or second thought John grabs a wing a bit above the base. Precise flourish of cold steel and heart-rending scream deafens all who are present. Unexpectedly it thrusts as a silver arrow into the heart of the Executioner. But the hands do the usual and rob of the condemned of the second black wing.

A drowned in despair and pain scream pierces John’s being, hurting with long sharp claws. Something is wrong. But what exactly? The Keeper looks at the defeated body. The shackles are gone and Sherlock sinks exhausted to the white planes. Suddenly the dark veil, that was shadowing the gaze of the prisoner before vanishes, laying bare the agony of unexpected turquoise.

John sees sincerity and innocence in THOSE eyes. The wounds are bleeding, countering the body with purple on the white.

Sherlock blindly looks before him at the golden cloud of light that covers his executioner. He tries stubbornly to dive into this warmth and find its core. He still sees nothing but somehow feels that he has found what he was looking for. His gaze freezes.

John flinches. Sherlock looks him straight in the eyes. Old as world sorrow is spilled in this remarkable split of eyes.  
\- Why? – escapes from the dry lips.  
White arms shoot upwards and fall down immediately to shoulders, trying to find what is gone.

Wings, his wings!

Silver thread of tears traces the pale face.

\- What for?

The Keeper contritely opens his hand. The sword falls down. John extends his hand to the doomed, but the purple of the blood has already corroded the shroud between the two worlds.

Convicted Holmes breaks though the plate and falls down headily. This is how the downfall always ends.

John feels terror that grabs his heart with sticky fingers. He sags and sinks to the ground unable to tear his eyes from the beautiful cut wings. Its true white feathering starting to show through the dark deceit.

\- What have I done? – whispers John brokenly, looking with repulsion at his own hands.


End file.
